Hell Hath No Fury
by bluebabe82
Summary: A story about revenge on past lovers with an unexpected twist for the CSI crew.
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER!

I do not own any of the CSI characters in this story as they are property of CBS.  All other characters are my own original creations and any similarities between these and anyone living or dead are completely coincidental.

This is my first fan-fic so I hope you enjoy it! Please r and r.

HELL HATH NO FURY

Prologue

Somewhere outside in the darkness a woman screamed with false fear, her falsetto voice breaking the calm of the street.  The figure hunched over his desk glanced up briefly, then sighed.  He'd been playing the game for nine hours and was no closer to winning than when he'd started.  The only thing keeping him staring at the flat screen was his pride, refusing to be beaten by his flatmates.  If nothing else, college had taught him the importance of unhealthy competition.

The clock told him it was after four, but he was still alone in the house.  Four floors of creaking floorboards, thin walls and drooping ceiling tiles revealed every footfall, every grunt, and every movement that the other males in the house could make.  But now there was nothing but heavy silence.

A cartoon footballer blinked at him and his attention was instantly brought back to the never ending screen of results and game plays.  Four keystrokes later he was smiling as his team headed to the top of the league.  As he danced wildly around the messy bedroom his eyes fell upon a photo lying on his desk, partially obscured by a pile of unopened textbooks.  He picked it up and grimaced at the smiling blond staring back at him.  It was one of the rare photos they'd had taken together and for a second they'd looked happy.

"Fucking psycho" he muttered, dropping the photo into the overflowing bin and stamping it down against a disguarded noodle concoction.  A floorboard creaked below him and he called out an insensitive greeting to whoever had returned home.  No answer.

Frustrated he threw his tatty robe over his holey boxers and pushed open his bedroom door, staring out into the dark hallway.

"Chris?" he called.  Still nothing.  He slowly padded to the top of the staircase and peered down.  The living room light was still burning where he'd left it, casting an unearthly glow across the rest of the ground floor.  Cursing his paranoia, he stormed back into his room; slamming the door behind him angrily and throwing himself face down on his bed.  He felt the sticky warmth spreading beneath him before he felt the pain.  Trashing wildly he tore at the spiked metal bed sheet, trying to rip it from his flesh.  As his vision blurred his eyes fell on something tacked to the window, illuminated by the moonlight.

The smiling face bore down on him, but for the first time he saw the cold reality behind her baby blue eyes and the crossed fingers intertwined with his.

Part One: Lost Souls

Gill Grissom knelt down beside the bed and immediately regretted it.  The curious stain on the bed sheets hadn't been bloody fluid as he'd first imagined, but was actually excrement mixed with pungent urine.  He coughed slightly and turned his head under the pretence of examining the blood pooling under the victims right arm.  

"Pretty nasty huh?" Brass interjected, wrinkling his nose at the mangled body.  Grissom sighed,

"Ingenious actually.  Creating a sheet comprised entirely of jagged metal.  The spikes wouldn't have killed him, his human nature to fight them away did.  The more he struggled the more entwined he became and the faster his blood pumped.  He killed himself."

"Either way it's a pretty nasty way to go." Brass nodded towards Catherine Willows who was attempting to find a clear path to the body.

"Let me guess," she said, shaking a sticky sock from her boots in disgust, "Frat house?"

Brass grinned and pointed towards the faded banner hung between posters of naked women.  

"Any idea what happened?" she asked to no-one in particular.  

"Rest of the guys came home about 6am but no-one thought to check on him till 8am when he didn't show for breakfast.  Apparently he never missed a meal."

Catherine took in the bloated stomach, caked in blood that stood out from the boys' lanky frame. "Now that I believe." She commented dryly.  Like all the other night shift CSI's she dreaded cases that fell on the borderline of shifts.  Technically anything reported after 7am went automatically to day shift, but since the coroner had placed time of death before 5am, this one fell under their jurisdiction.  Tired and cranky from a night spent searching for a not so missing persons, all she wanted was a hot bath and bed.  Unlikely, she moaned inwardly.  Snapping on a pair of latex gloves she knelt beside her supervisor and followed his glance under the bed.

"Got something?" she asked.  Grissom reached forward and carefully pulled a curly black hair from the worn carpet.

"He doesn't have curly hair." Catherine commented, glancing back at the short, slicked down hair of the deceased.  "Girlfriend?"

"Boys say he hasn't had one for a while." Brass answered, shrugging in the direction of the open door where three terrified looking young men stood, all shaking beneath their robes.  Catherine knelt back on her heels.

"You guys know anyone with long curly black hair?" she called back towards the scared clutch.  They exchanged nervous glances then the smallest one spoke up.

"Yeah, he has a couple of friends with curly hair.  They're always around here though."

"He didn't tidy often." Another added a noticeable tone of disgust in his heavily accented voice.  Catherine smiled.

"We're going to need to talk to you guys lateron...why don't you get dressed?" she suggested.  The boys nodded and quickly fled, desperate to leave the increasingly strong smelling crime scene.  Grissom picked up the camera and began carefully snapping pictures of the body and surrounding area.

"You know, it's going to be impossible to find foreign evidence here." Catherine said testily.  

"There is always something." Grissom replied, handing her a pot of florescent powder and a brush.  "Just a case of finding it."

                                                                        *

Coroner Robbins pulled back the sheet and smiled slightly when he saw Sara Sidle twist uncomfortably.

"Never amazes me the lengths some people will go to inflict pain upon another.  This is brutal in its execution, definitely a crime of passion."

Sarah swallowed, "Not my idea of passion." She muttered, forcing herself to look down at the mutilated body on the slab.  The boy, no older than 20, had been slashed several times, not deep enough to kill him, but enough to inflict serious pain.  His hands had been bound, as has his feet, with barbed wire causing the skin to blister and cut whenever he struggled.  Most disturbing, however, was his penis, which had been severed and then forced down his throat.

"Cause of death?" she asked.  Robbins pointed at the cuts,

"He would have bled out if he hadn't suffocated first.  I found an abundance of vomit in his throat, nasal cavity and mouth.  I should imagine having his own genitals stuffed down his throat made him vomit, on which he suffocated."

"Wouldn't you?" Sara asked.  She cast her eye down the blood sodden body and noticed something unusual.  Robbins followed her gaze and smiled.

"Good eye I was wondering when you would notice that.  I'm not sure what it is exactly, it's been sown under several layers of skin.  Not overly well either.  I can cut it out now you're here." He said happily reaching for a scalpel.  Seconds later a flap of jagged skin was cut in the victims' stomach and a bloody piece of shaped stone removed.

"It's a stone heart." Sara exclaimed.  Robbins held it to the light and nodded his agreement.  

"Looks…expensive, machine made not by hand." He added.  Sara took the heart from him and dropped it into an evidence bag.

"It's a message." She said slowly, holding the bag to the light.

"Of what?" Robbins asked.

"Heart of stone."


	2. Part Two: Playtime

DISCLAIMER:            I do not own any of the CSI characters…they are all property of CBS and the writers of the show.  Any original characters are mine and bear no resemblance to anyone living or dead (well not much anyway :p)

HELL HATH NO FURY

Part Two: Playtime

Eckley raised an eyebrow and stared down his least favourite night shift CSI.

"Let me see Brown…uh….no way in hell." He said venomously.  Warrick Brown shifted the case files he was juggling and started to protest.  Eckley held up a hand to silence him.

"Look I am not letting you see my case files, period." He paused for effect, "Especially when you obviously can't do your job alone."  

Warrick glared at the day shift supervisors retreating back with white hot rage.  He stormed into the break room, kicking the glass door shut behind him.  

"Whoa…down boy." Catherine glanced up from her papers and grinned at him.

"That door giving you jip again?" she asked.  Warrick slumped down opposite her and ran his hands through his coarse hair in obvious frustration.

"You know this case Griss gave me and Nick last week? The mutilated body in the university biology lab? Well someone from days told me that Eckley had a case almost identical to that couple of months back and he won't let me see his file on it." He grimaced, "Sometimes I wonder if he even cares about catching killers or just about his career path."

Catherine put down her coffee cup and gestured towards the case files scattered across the table.

"Is it one of these?" she asked.  Warrick nodded, plucking one from the mess and handed it over to her.  Catherine flipped open the file and gasped.  Warrick grinned,

"Gross huh? Someone did a real number on the poor kid.  Blunt force trauma to the back of the head killed him, and then the body was sliced and diced and covered in maggots."

Catherine looked slightly queasy as she scanned the initial blood reports and the coroners' findings.  The body had been left in one of the disused labs, deemed unsafe and therefore technically out of bounds to all, but widely used by sexed up students and vandals.  The boy had been found several hours after time of death by a couple of teenagers searching for abandoned chemicals.  There had been little to no evidence at the scene, the lab floor had been examined and over 25 footprints lifted same as the surrounding counters and sinks.  These belonged to various students, surveyors and unknowns.  The only palpable piece of evidence was a single black hair found on the body, which had been analysed and come back inconclusive.

"Black hair?" she asked suddenly, jerking up.  Warrick nodded.

"Yeah, no DNA, nothing.  Why?"

Catherine shot to her feet and headed for the DNA lab, where technician Greg Saunders was busy trying to feed bubble gum to a Venus fly trap.  Clearly smarter than him, the plant remained closed all through the ordeal.

"Greg, did you get the DNA back on that hair Grissom found at the crime scene earlier." Catherine asked.  Greg dropped the gum, patted the plant and swivelled his chair round the face the CSIs.

"Nope." He grinned lopsidedly at her.  Catherine looked on impatiently.

"There wasn't any.  Its human hair alright but no tags or markers of any kind.  Did find an odd substance at the root though.  Gluey." He handed Catherine a sheet of paper and returned to the plant, which was snapping wildly at a passing fly.

"Glue?" Warrick asked, squinting at the results.

"What type of glue Greg?" Catherine asked.  Greg shrugged,

"Sent it to trace.  I don't do that stuff, all organic, all the way – that's me."

                                                                        *

Never had the word "bastard" been used by so many different women to describe the same man before.  Grissom twisted a stray thread from his jumper around his finger as the fourth, black haired female friend of the deceased proceeded to repeat everything her counterparts had said.  

"Mike was a total bastard." She scowled, tossing her short black curls and leaning back in the hard chair of the interview room.  "The reason he didn't have a girlfriend is because he couldn't commit.  He'd get real bored real easy and just ignore them.  Total bastard."

"So you and the deceased were never a couple?" Brass asked.  The girl snorted.

"He wishes.  Nah, the last girl stupid enough to date him was someone called Lila…something…he dumped her about six months ago."

Grissom thanked the girl for her time and requested a DNA sample, to which she consented, like all the others claiming she had nothing to hide.  As they watched her leave, Brass checked his list and announced she was the final "friend" of the day.

"Guy clearly had a thing for girls with curly black hair" he commented, "four friends all looking exactly the same."

"None of whom seem too cut up that he's dead." Grissom observed, bagging the swab and placing it in the tray with the others to be sent to Greg for analysis against the hair he and Catherine had recovered from the crime scene.  Brass nodded and followed the CSI out to the coffee pot which was, as usual, beginning to resemble the creature from the black lagoon.

"So what now?" he asked.  Grissom shrugged,

"We didn't find unaccountable prints, foot or finger, just the hair.  Hopefully Greg will be able to match it to one of our girls."

"Doesn't make a suspect though.  Just proves they were there." Brass noted.  Grissom nodded.

"And if you're going on motive…looks like half of Vegas is a suspect."

                                                                        *

Nick Stokes leaned back and aimed.  The make-shift basketball made a clean arch across the break room and ended three feet from the bin.

"I thought you were a jock in college?" Sarah jabbed.  Nick grinned,

"Baseball…hitter not pitcher."

"Oh right." Came the unconvinced reply.  Nick stretched his arms behind his head and glanced down at the file his colleague was studying.

"That tonight's?" he asked.  Sarah nodded.

"Yeah, big man it would seem.  I.D'd as a bartender from Fresha, that new club on the strip.  No family, but his colleagues' say he was a real player, different girl every night, never kept anyone around for longer than a week."

"Explains the genital thing then…cheating guy gets his Johnson cut off, classic revenge."

Sarah nodded, "and the heart of stone…which by the way had traces of female DNA."

Reaching forward, Nick plucked the headshot from the pile of photos and flicked his eyes over the boys face, bruised and bloody but undeniably handsome.  He glanced back up at Sarah in surprise.

"You sure this is your guy?" he asked.  Sarah looked confused.

"Who else would it be Nick?" she asked, taking back the photo and studying it.  Nick shook his head,

"This guy looks identical to the maggot guy me and Warrick had last week..."

"Coincidence?" Sarah asked, her eyebrows raised.  Nick shrugged,

"I don't know…but something about this just doesn't sit right and you know what Grissom says, if it doesn't feel right – it probably isn't."

Three photos lay across the table, three different crimes, three different victims but each with the same face.  Catherine ran her fingers through her hair and exhaled loudly.

"Jesus.  They say everyone has a double but this is insane."  She tapped the pictures in turn, "same hair, same eye colour, same height, weight the only difference is occupation.  A student, a bartender and a bus-boy."

"Make that a crispy bus-boy" Warrick announced from the doorway.  Nick groaned,

"He was cremated?"

"Three days ago."

Sarah and Catherine sighed simultaneously.  Any physical evidence missed the first time round was gone forever.  Before she could ask the interminable question, why have a murder victim cremated and destroy any chances of exhumation, Sarah glanced down at the maggot infested body and shuddered.

"So what do we know these men had in common?" Grissom asked.  Catherine flipped open a file and scanned it.

"Apart from the physical aspects, all lived in Vegas, all were under 25 and none had any money."

The others looked at her in surprise.  She shrugged and grinned,

"Hey this is Vegas…if its not money related its gotta be sex related."

Sarah nodded in agreement, "That's true.  All of the guys were said to be pretty promiscuous.  Most of their friends and colleagues said they really played the field."

"Look at the crime itself" Grissom interjected, "The first victim was covered in maggots, the second had his genitalia removed and the third killed by a spiked metal bed sheet.  All clear revenge methods.  First one says 'this guys a maggot'; second 'cheater' and third 'killed by jumping into bed'."

"Don't forget the stone heart sown into the second victim.  Clearly a message as to his way of treating people." Sarah added.  

"Evidence?" Grissom asked.  Catherine shook her head.

"Well you know all we recovered this morning was a black hair and the same hair type was found by Warrick and Nick.  Down side, Greg says it's human but no DNA present.  He did find a funky substance which trace ran and discovered it's an industrial solvent used to make expensive wigs…the type that are real hair and hand made and there were traces of female DNA pulled from skin cells on the heart from Sarahs vic, but nothing on file." She paused for breath as a flustered Brass burst into the room.

"Hope you guys don't have homes to go to" he shook his head, "We've got another one."

  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N:     Thanks to everyone who r and r'd the last part! This is my first fic and its great to know you guys are enjoying it!  This part is slightly less gory than the last one…but believe me the next one will more than make up for it! All feedback is gratefully received so please continue to r and r!


	3. part three

DISCLAIMER:            I do not own any of the CSI characters, they are all property of the shows writers and CBS.  

A/N:     I am not a scientist, so if some of the science stuff is off the mark, forgive me!

HELL HATH NO FURY

Part Three:       Run Rabbit Run

The smell of vomit emanating from the building was intense.  Warrick pinched his nose and exhaled sharply.

"Where the hell is that coming from?" he asked Nick, who's breathing was equally laboured.  Rounding a corner they came face to face with a LVPD officer, bent at the waist and heaving violently.  

"Hey man…you ok?" Nick asked, realising that the officer was not alone in his predicament.  Around them vomit glistened on the asphalt and a handful of uniformed police were hunched in various positions, all looking disgusted and embarrassed.  Nick approached the least green looking one and asked what they'd found inside the building.

"Jesus man…it's like….horror movie….Jesus." came the stuttered reply.  Warrick shot Nick a concerned glance.  LVPD officers were not known for having gentle stomachs and had borne witness to some unbelievable atrocities that sin city had produced.  He felt his stomach tightening as they approached the garage, the corrugated iron doors raised only a foot from the ground, pulling the neon light into the darkened space and creating an unearthly atmosphere.  Together the CSI's ducked under the door, straightening immediately to avoid being brained by the hanging presses.  

"Well I can smell the blood, but where's the body?" Nick asked, snapping on his flashlight and scanning the cramped space.  Presses and machinery hung from every available space and covered every surface.  Illuminating a pile of empty paint sprays and specialist tools, he commented to his partner that the garage was probably dealing in illegal body work and reclassification of stolen vehicles.  

"Yeah…you think this was a dissatisfied customer?" Warrick questioned, taking a couple of small steps backwards.  His foot caught on something and he flashed the light onto the floor.

"Holy shit." He breathed.  Trailing across his shoe was a piece of intestine, ruptured and bleeding.  He edged the light along the floor until the trail of bloody flesh came to rest in a spreading pool by the east wall.

"Nick." Warrick croaked, slowly rising the beam.  The wall was soaked in sticky bodily fluids, spattered in a mass of lines and arches.  Nicks beam joined Warricks and together they moved up the wall until a pair of naked blood soaked feet appeared.  The lights shimmered on the slick blood covered legs and torso, revealing a jagged cut from groin to neck, held open with hand vices and a horrific mass of internal organs protruding out.

"It's a human operation game." Nick swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and further investigation of the upper body showed gouged eyes and a blackened tongue stretched from the mouth by a pair of iron tongs.  Warrick completed the scan, raising the light to the ceiling and showing the victims hands, which had been trapped in the hydraulic machinery and mangled until unrecognisable.

"I don't think this was a dissatisfied customer man." Nick whispered.

"If it was, I wouldn't want to be their dry cleaner." came the dry reply.

                                                                        *

Dr Robbins watched sympathetically as the vice coroner, David, turned and retched into a sink.

"Sorry" he said sheepishly, wiping his mouth and returning to the table, where the garage victim had finally been assembled.  It had taken nine paramedics and five police officers to move the body and it was so covered in their vomit and bile that Grissom worried the evidence may be completely tainted.  Reading his mind, Dr Robbins nodded towards a pile of swabs by the victims' personal affects.

"Nick and Warrick took DNA from everyone once they realised cross contamination was unavoidable." He shook his head and squinted down at the body, "I've seen some terrible things in this job but this one takes the biscuit."

"Cause of death?" Grissom asked.  Robbins pointed to each of the wounds in turn.

"The bruising and blood loss indicates that the victim was alive to have his hands trapped but dead before the gutting began.  I can't be sure, as all the cuts were made quickly, but I should imagine the first one was this." He motioned to a stab wound just below the victims' heart.  Grissom nodded.

"Makes sense.  But how did the killer get him to grab the machinery in the first place and just dangle there?" he asked.  Robbins shrugged,

"This is just a guess, but I found evidence of recent ejaculation around the genital area and stomach.  Maybe he was holding on for support and someone turned the grate on?"

Grissoms eyebrow rose at this possibility.  It would explain the victims' nakedness as well as the grease found on the soles of his feet.  In a garage it was highly plausible that he was standing on a stool and gripping the bar above his head.

"Did you swab for foreign DNA?" he asked.  Robbins nodded.  Grissom thanked him, took one last shuddering look at the body and slowly made his way to the meeting room, where a shaken Nick was holding court.

"Where's Warrick?" Grissom asked.  Nick grimaced,

"He went home to shower and change his clothes."

"That's not a bad idea for all of us" Catherine added.  "We've been on for over 24 hours Gill….I know this is a huge case but we need to rest."

Grissom looked across at the dark circles under his colleagues eyes and sighed.  

"I want everyone back first thing in the morning." He warned, watching the relief flood their faces.  At the door, Catherine paused,

"I meant you too Gill."

"I just want to finish some stuff.  I'll go home I promise." He smiled at her and caught her rolling eyes with amusement.

"Oh one last thing…since you're still here.  Warrick said that Eckley had a revenge case a couple of months back he couldn't solve.  He wouldn't let Warrick have the case file for comparison, but he might if you talk to him."

Grissom grinned, "Or I could just steal it?" he offered.

"Hey you're the boss…what you gonna do, fire yourself?" Catherine replied with a sly grin and a wink.

                                                                        *

Despite her best intentions to the contrary, Sarah couldn't stop her head bopping in time to the infectious beat radiating from the DNA lab.  The normal pounding metal beats had been replaced with a suspiciously fast disco track.  Peering in, she smiled to see Greg striking his best John Travolta pose and wiggling his hips in time to the music.

"Gone back in time?" she asked.  Greg jumped and switched off the music.  Cheeks burning, he turned and grinned at her.

"Family reunion next weekend.  Papa Olaf has challenged me to a dance contest and I intend to shake my funky stuff all the way to the finishing line.  Hey, wanna come?" he asked hopefully.  Sarah smiled,

"Love to Greg but I'm having my earlobes waxed that weekend." She joked.  Gregs face fell for a moment, then he recovered and shot across the lab to the printer where several sheets of paper had collected.

"Guess you're here for the fish guys stuff, right?"

"Fish guy?" she asked, suddenly unsure if she wanted the answer.  Greg shrugged,

"Dangling from a hook and gutted right? Just like a fish."

Sarah shook her head and held her hands out for the results.  As he handed them over, Greg summarized them.

"Semen with his DNA and saliva with foreign female DNA.  Ran the profile against the stuff from your heart and bingo…markers match exactly.  Whoever your mystery woman is, I wouldn't want to meet her on a dark night."

"Anything special?" Sarah asked, scanning the results.  Greg shook his head.

"Nope...nothing out of the ordinary.  I ran it through the database and nothing came up.  Which reminds me….." he reached into a drawer and advanced with a swab.  Startled, Sarah recoiled and held her hands in front of her face.

"What are you doing"? She demanded.  Greg grinned.

"We got a new profiling programme.  You see everyone who works here has their fingerprints on file, but we don't have everyones DNA.  New guidelines says it all has to be fed into the programme before end of the month."

"You can do that?"

"If you open your mouth." He joked.  Sarah allowed him to swab her cheek then glanced across towards the break room, where a hunched Catherine sat, staring blankly into her coffee cup.

"You seen Grissom yet?" she asked.  Greg shook his head.

"Not yet, but tell him I need his DNA."

Sarah pondered the outcome of that conversation and shuddered.

"Just be careful Greg…Grissom bites."

Eckley knocked twice on the closed door then opened it forcefully.   A dull shriek from across the darkened room caused him to jump and scowl.

"Grissom?" he called.  The desk lamp suddenly snapped on, startling Eckley.

"Jesus Grissom don't you have a home to go to?" he spat.  Grissom rubbed his bloodshot eyes and glanced at the clock above his door.  Eight thirty.  Damn.

"What is it Eckley? I'm late for a briefing." He muttered testily.  Eckley smiled evilly,

"Gee I don't know Grissom.  I come in this morning to find a note on my desk saying you've signed out several of my case files without my knowledge.  Any idea why I'm here?"

Grissom held up a branded file, "I only took two and you can have this one back.  I needed to check one of your unsolved, dark haired male killed a couple of months ago, ring any bells?"

Eckley snorted, "The one Brown wanted? I told him to solve his own cases before starting on mine."

"It's our case now." Grissom said clearly.  He ran a hand through his mussed hair and pushed past Eckley into the already bustling corridor.  Snapping at his heels, the day shift supervisor followed Grissom into the break room and slammed the door heavily behind him, causing all the night shift CSI's to look up in horror.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded.  Grissom flipped open Eckleys case file and removed the coroners' photo of the victims face.  He laid it down beside the other victims, including the most recent, and stared back at Eckley.

"Notice anything?" he asked.  Eckley leaned forward and barely concealed his surprise.

"So they look alike.  How many dark haired teenagers do you think there are in Las Vegas, Grissom? Hundreds and they aren't all dead."

"No" Grissom agreed, pulling out another sheet from the file and waving it before Eckleys slowly reddening face.  "But adding the black hair you found to the ones we found I think that constitutes more than a coincidence."

"You found hairs?" Eckley stammered.  Catherine nodded.

"Yeah, at the first two crime scenes and the one from last night.  And from the look on your face I'm guessing you got the same results, inconclusive with a solvent used in wig making."

Eckleys expression darkened. "I don't like people poking around in my investigations."

"Well I'm not too fond of women going around mutilating young men but we cant all have what we want." Grissom snapped.  The rest of the team didn't exhale until Eckleys retreating back was well out of sight.  Catherine turned to Grissom,

"So we have got a serial." She sighed.  He nodded and leaned back against the counter.  He hadn't slept and from the look of the rest of the CSIs neither had they.  The body of last nights victim kept running through his head, keeping him on a constant state of disgust and revolution.  Whoever was doing this was clearly psychotic and wouldn't stop until they were caught.  

"Let's play it out." He said finally.  Catherine straightened.

"Ok, timeline first.  Eckleys guy found two months ago; out first victim, the maggot boy – last Saturday, eight days ago.  Sarahs stony heart guy – last Wednesday, five days ago and two more vics in under 48 hours.  How does one person have time to do all this damage?"

"I can answer that.  Maggot boy was killed at the scene, cut quickly then invested.  Quick and clean." Warrick answered.  Sarah nodded,

"Yes and my heart guy would have taken longer, but not by much.  Dr Robbins said he probably died from choking within seconds of the penis being shoved in his mouth.  Our girl didn't mess about, didn't take her time.  It's quick, forceful and passionate."

"Bed clothes guy thrashed about for a while before he died, but it would only have taken a couple of minutes to lace the bed." Grissom interjected.  Catherine pushed her chair back and slid across the room to the coffee pot.

"You know none of them had defensive wounds.  And fish guy was clearly consenting to something before he died." Sarah mused.  Grissom regarded her strangely.

"Fish guy?" he asked.  

"Don't ask" came the answer.  Catherine stared at her reflection in the coffee pot for a moment then spoke quietly.

"Sarah, have you ever been cheated on?"

The others turned to face her is astonishment.  Sarah blushed, then replied that she hadn't.  Catherine moved back to the table and spread her hands, palm down.

"Out of all the victims we know, according to their friends, that three were single and prone to cheating.  All look alike, which speaks to lover preference, and none had defensive wounds.  That meant they knew the killer and were happy to be alone with them.  And knowing the cheating male as well as I do, what's the one thing their ego can't resist?"

"The ex that caught them cheating come crawling back." Nick said suddenly.  Grissom grabbed a piece of paper from the table and pointed to something near the bottom.

"Mike…our bed victim…hadn't had a girlfriend in six months according to his friends and the last one was someone called Lila something." He read.  Grissom dropped the paper down at leaned over his team.

"Right…Nick…you take the maggot boy, find out who his last serious girlfriend was and what she was like.  Warrick, you try and ID our garage guy and do the same thing.  Sarah….."

"Find out where the heart came from and who the vics last girlfriend was…I'm on it." She interrupted, jumping from her seat and leaving the room.  Catherine looked at their supervisor.

"What do we do?" she asked.

"I'm going back to the crime scene.  Our victim was the only one not killed hands on…I want to know why."

"I'll press the name.  See if the girls can remember more now they've had their beauty sleep." Catherine announced.  Grissom nodded and departed, leaving the other three to collect the files.  The most recent victims' coroners' photo slipped and Catherine shuddered.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

It turned out that finding the retailer of the stone heart was easier than Sarah had expected.  She was processing the markings on the back when one of the audio technicians entered the lab and admired it, claiming that the heart was part of a set sold exclusively through a single retailer off the strip.  Ten minutes later, she hung up the phone and smiled.  The set had been purchased using cash, but the retailer insists that every customer signs the visitors book.  Lila Gregory had been the only person to get that particular set, complete with the black stone heart which Sarah now held in her hands.  She threaded her way down the busy corridor towards Grissoms office, knocked twice and receiving no answer tried the handle.

"Damn" she muttered, fishing into her lab coat for her cell phone.  Flipping it open she noticed a young woman standing approach the office, knock, and then look dejected by the lack of reply.

"Are you looking for Gill Grissom?" Sarah asked, pausing her dialling.  The girl nodded.

"I think he's out in the field.  Is it about a case? I'm a CSI, I might be able to help." She offered.  

"It's not about a case.  It's a personal matter." The girl replied.  Sarah shrugged in amazement – Grissom didn't have personal matters.

"You can leave a message with me if you want, I'll make sure he gets it."

The girl gave her the once over, her icy blue eyes making Sarah feel instantly uncomfortable.  There was something undeniably familiar about the girls manner, her facial expressions and structure that the CSI couldn't place.

"Fine." The girl replied finally, her tone measured.  

"Can you tell him his daughter stopped by?"


	4. part four

DISCLAIMER:            I don't own any of the CSI characters, they are the property of CBS and the shows writers.  All original characters are mine!

Part Four : Spidersense

From deep within its leafy domain, the tarantula stirred and stretched a long leg lazily into the artificial heat.  Slowly, it ascended to the upper most level of the rock pile and bristled against the Perspex.

"She's lonely." A voice broke the silence in the office.  Grissom looked across from the spot on the far wall he'd been studying for the past ten minutes and towards the young woman seated across from him, calm and collected and in control.  Exactly the opposite of what he felt.

"I'm sorry?" he stammered.  The girl ran her finger down the length of the habitation absently, as she spoke in authoritative tones.

"Most spiders are highly independent – once they leave the nest they never see their parents again, but the Brazilian Leaf Spider is the opposite.  They stay together in tightly formed colonies and remain with the same group for many years.  The fur on the back of her neck here is a pale yellowy colour showing an emotional response to something.  Since there is no evidence of injury it can be assumed that the problem is emotional.  Humans like to believe that spiders are emotionless creatures, it makes them easier to swash with newspapers and flush down drains – when in fact they are highly sensitive to change."

Grissom regarded her with unashamed astonishment.  "How do you know so much about insects?" he asked.  The girl crossed her legs and smiled.

"Only spiders.  I don't trust anything with more than eight legs, seems greedy to me.  I was the only child in second grade to have a pet spider…my mother was not pleased."

In spite of the situation, Grissom caught her eye and smiled.

"I remember Julie was terrified of spiders." He commented.  The girl nodded, then glanced away, her eyes misting for a second.  Grissom felt his social inadequacies rising.

"How did she die?" he asked finally, curiosity overwhelming the situations need for diplomacy.  This, he mused as the young woman fixed her icy gaze upon him once more, is the reason Catherine always talks to the press. 

"Heart attack" she replied simply.  She took a sip from the water Grissom had provided and placed the bottle in front of him.  Rising, she leant forward, bringing her face parallel with his.

"Some claim that a spider's sense of genetics is so strong that it can recognise a relative by their scent even if they have never met before.  Humans have a lot of catching up to do." She tapped the water bottle, "There should be enough DNA on there for you to run a comparison and prove I'm your daughter.  I don't want anything from you, I just needed to see the reason my mother always smiled when a beetle came inside."

Grissom was still left speechless when the door closed behind her and her footsteps had faded.  He looked down at his spider, still bristling against the top of the habitat and sighed.

"And people wonder why I prefer bugs."

Maggot Boy, who turned out to be a bus-boy by the name of Craig Elson, was not a popular guy with the females of Vegas.  In his distraught mothers eyes he'd been the perfect son, although she hadn't seen or spoken to him in almost three years, but to everyone else he was a narcissistic, immature bully who preyed on emotionally unstable women, draining them of self esteem then finally discarding them in favour of the next big thing.  Nick grinned as he recalled the string of profanity that had erupted from one of Elsons colleagues when he inadvertently mentioned that's Elson had been seen with the other bus-boys girlfriend several times.  The interview had produced some pertinent information though, it appeared that a few weeks before his death he had been seeing a blond girl, who's name no-one could remember, but who had the distinction of being the only female strong enough to cut Elson loose when she discovered him in bed with a waitress for the Tangiers.  The waitress had been a curly haired brunette with expensive tastes, whom Elson had dropped three days before his body was found in the lab.  Armed with this new information, Nick brought the SUV to a halt beside the back entrance to the CSI building and jumped out.  He'd taken only three steps when he collided with an attractive blond girl who was hurrying from the building, head down, obviously distraught.  Nick reached out instinctively and caught her before she fell, crushing her small body against his.

"Hey," he asked with concern, "You ok?"

The girl looked up at him and smiled.  "Yeah, sorry.  Guess my mind was somewhere else.  Thanks." She added.  Nick grinned and extended his hand.

"Nick Stokes…I work here but I haven't seen you around before."

"Alicia Jaynt" the girl said with a wider smile, taking his hand lightly in hers.  Nick looked into her bright blue eyes and felt his stomach contract.  He hadn't been on a date in a while and was starting to doubt his ability to meet normal women, considering his last girlfriend had been a suspect and the one before that a prostitute who ended up dead only hours after they'd spent the night together.  

"I don't work here." Alicia clarified.  "I'm a waitress…highly unglamorous but pays some of the bills." She shook her head.  Nick grinned again.

"Hey sometimes I would give anything for a job that doesn't involve blood and dead people." He pulled a face and was gratified when she laughed.

"You clearly haven't ever been to the diner where I work." Alicia joked, tucking a stray hair back behind her ear.

"How about we trade war stories over a drink?" 

                                                                        *

Grissom dropped the water bottle and a swab on top of the forensic magazine Greg was reading, who jumped and fell off his precariously leaning chair.

"I need a comparison run on these as soon as possible and as quietly as possible." Grissom said, ignoring the pained protests from the floor under the desk.  Second later Gregs messy blonded spikes appeared over the top of the desk as he scrambled to regain composure in front of the night supervisor.  

"Quietly?" the dazed technician asked.  Grissom nodded.

"It's a personal matter.  I need to know if the DNA on the swab is a paternity match to the DNA from the water bottle."

"No problem" Greg said, reaching for a swab and attacking the bottle neck.  "Can I ask what this is about?"

"No" Grissom replied sharply.  Greg looked hurt for a moment, then recovered and dropped the swabs into their respective solutions and started the analysis machine spinning.  Ten seconds later the computer beeped and a single sheet of paper spewed forth from the printer.  Greg snatched it up before Grissom could and scanned the results with interest.

"Well you've got your paternity match.  Markers are a clear indication.  Now you gonna tell me who the specimens are from?" he pushed hopefully, but Grissom had already left the lab.  Greg sighed,

"Just think of the promotion being a lap dog could bring". He muttered, returning to his magazine.

                                                                        *

Warrick and Nick had gained almost identical information on their victims.  Both had been dating a mystery blond who had been cheated on with an even more mysterious brunette.  Nether victim was praised for their compassion and both were regarded with obvious distain by those closest to them.

"My moneys on the blond" Warrick announced, leaning back in his chair and throwing a grape absentmindedly at Catherine, who reached up and caught it.

"Wow, nice reflexes." He said impressed.  Catherine popped the grape into her mouth and smirked,

"Thanks….comes from years of having to catch vases before Lindsey smashed them."

Warrick laughed, "Violent child?" he asked.  

"Not the only one." Grissom said, entering the break room and shutting the door hard behind him.  "Apparently our frat boy's ex had quite the temper on her.  When he left her she slashed his tires and threw a brick through his window."

"Doesn't sound uncommon to me." Catherine commented.  Sarah nodded her agreement, and then laid a photo of a signature before them.

"Well I think I I.D'd our scorned woman.  A blond woman, medium height and slim build purchased a set containing the same heart that was dug out of the second victim.  Her name is Lila Gregory…that ties in with frat boy right?" she asked Grissom, who nodded.

"Friends confirmed the girlfriends last name was G something."  Catherine added.  "And that he dumped her because she accused him of cheating on her…with one of his friends a brunette by the name of Louise Anderson."

"I couldn't find anything at the crime scene to say why the pattern changed for this victim, but that makes sense.  The others all cheated on our Lila Gregory, whereas this one actually wasn't."  Grissom commented.  Nick shrugged.

"Maybe she was trying to prove she'd been right.  By putting something hidden in the bed it would have caught whoever was in there, not just the ex."

Sarah picked her coat from the back of her chair and tucked it under her arm.

"I'll run Lila Gregory through our databases and see what pops up." She said, starting for the door.  Grissom called out to her.

"No, I'll do it." He avoided Catherines wary eye and ducked past Sarah into the calming corridor.  Behind him the other CSI's exchanged interested glances.

"Think he'll ever talk about it?" Sarah asked.  Catherine snorted.

"Not in this lifetime."


End file.
